


In Between the Earth and Sky

by TruantPony



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Abduction, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Prequel, Blood and Violence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Intrigue, Mind Games, Nil's Backstory, One-Sided Attraction, PTSD, Red Raids AU, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Sparring, War Crimes, slight stockholm syndrome, unhealthy relationship turns healthy and confuses participants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 12:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruantPony/pseuds/TruantPony
Summary: As the Red Raids continue unabated and more Braves are lost, all Nora are called upon to defend the Sacred Land, even Outcasts.  Aloy soon finds that she will need win in a race against time to save her fellow Nora and herself before their captors take them out of the Sacred Land for sacrifice in the Sun Ring of Meridian.  The stakes are high and if they are taken beyond the borders, they will be exiled forever.  With few allies among the enemies, how can she save her people and spark a sense of morality in her captor, a man who seemingly has none?HZD AU, a Red Raids prequel.





	1. The Matriarchs' Offer

_One…_

The watcher went down with an arrow aimed precisely into its lens.

_Two…_

The first watcher hadn’t even stopped sparking when her second arrow flew true as the north wind.

_Three…_

The third, alerted to her presence with the death of its two fellows, spun with its light flashing from yellow to red. It only made it easier for her to place her arrow and she released it the same moment as she released the breath she had been holding.

As soon as it went down, a fourth one that she hadn’t counted on came running through the tall grass.

She rolled out of the way as it came flying towards her, metal legs thrashing the air where her head had been. She ran a few paces to get distance, nocked an arrow and then skidded towards the watcher who was struggling to get back upright. Her arrow punched through a weak spot, lodging into the metal gears and wires. There was a shower of sparks, then silence.

She looked over her shoulder up towards the ridge where Rost was waiting with a bow at the ready, just in case. He wasn’t smiling but the corners of his eyes were creased in approval and when he nodded at her, something unloosened in her chest. Aloy turned away with a smile, buoyed by the feeling of triumph. It was a near perfect run and that nod of approval was hard won. She turned to the lifeless metal husks of the watchers and began carving out resources, collecting the shards and wires that they needed to make arrows and hunting equipment. This was their livelihood. They respected the machines and hunted them for parts only when needed. Rost soon made his way down to join her.

“You did well,” he said. Aloy winced internally and prepared herself for the ‘but’ that was sure to follow. Rost never wasted breath to tell her how well she did unless there was something she could have done better.

He knelt down beside her, watching her harvest machine parts with a critical eye. “That last watcher was–”

Aloy grimaced. “Sloppy. I know. I didn’t expect it.” Its path had been just out of range of her Focus.

“In the wilds you have to expect the unexpected. You should–”

“Never let your guard down,” Aloy recited automatically.

Rost’s beard twitched. “I was going to say always have an arrow ready, but close enough.”

He watched her wrestle with a stubborn sparker for a moment. “Another thing to keep in mind when you’re harvesting machine parts is to be aware of your surroundings. You never know who or what may sneak up on you.”

Aloy gave a guilty start. She had been so absorbed in delving her fingers into the metal guts of machines that everything else had faded out for a moment. Rost’s face was a picture of disapproval, but it wasn’t aimed at her. She turned around and spotted a Nora tribesman waving and approaching them with purpose.

She tucked the shards and wires she had gathered into her rucksack and waited for the man to reach them.

“Hello to my favorite Outcast!” he greeted Aloy with a nod.

Aloy wasn’t fooled as she she shouldered her bow, a beautiful thing that she had bought from him. It had taken her months to gather enough shards, plus an intact watcher’s heart. “Karst, don’t you mean your favorite customer?”

He shrugged with a smile and then nodded to Rost. “Outcasts can’t be choosers, am I right, Rost?”

Rost paid him no mind and turned to Aloy. “Aloy, ignore this man. He is breaking the law by speaking to us. Do not add to the weight of his sins.”

Karst, who had been standing nearby clasped a hand to his heart. “All-Mother forgive me! I now see the error of my ways.” He tapped his chin. “Now, how will I deliver the message that I was asked to carry by the Matriarchs? What a conundrum!”

Rost's face darkened and he turned his back on Karst, muttering darkly. “Some will brazenly break the laws only away from the eyes of others.”

Aloy gave Karst a warning look. “Don’t aggravate him. What do the Matriarchs want with us anyway?”

Karst sat down on a rock with a petulant expression and pulled out a homespun cloth to mop his sweaty brow. “Do you have any idea how far I walked to find you two?”

“Maybe you’ve forgotten how it works. We’re Outcasts, people generally avoid us.” Aloy tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, wondering whether she succeeded.

Karst pocketed the linen kerchief and eyed her heavy satchel and the watcher carcasses behind her with interest. Aloy could practically see him counting up shards. “Not anymore. All Outcasts have been called to Mother’s Heart to meet in two weeks time. Matriarchs’ orders.”

Aloy stared at him, speechless. Despite herself, there was a little bubble of hope blossoming in her heart. She clenched her hands, the feel of her nails digging into her palms grounding her in her excitement. Maybe this was her chance to finally ask them where she came from, who her mother was, and why she was abandoned, why out of all Nora, her own face was bare of the matrilineal markings.

Even Rost turned around in surprise, arms dropping to his sides.

“Why?” she asked, unable to keep the suspicion from her voice.

Karst shrugged. “Don’t give me that look. I’m just the messenger. Ask the Matriarchs when you see them.” He paused and then considered Aloy with a thoughtful expression. “Say, you’re young and strong, care to pass on the message to Odd Grata? These old knees won’t make it much further today.”

Aloy rolled her eyes and ignored Rost’s scoff. “Sure. Any other tasks you’d like to foist off on me while we’re here?”

Before Karst could even open his mouth, Rost said loudly, “Those who have delivered their message should leave, otherwise it might be known that they have dealings with Outcasts outside of the tribal law.”

Karst gave him a narrow-eyed look. “You wouldn’t.”

Rost merely stared at him, unblinkingly, immovable as a mountain.

Aloy pressed her lips together to hide her smile. “Like I said, you shouldn’t aggravate him.”

Karst gave Rost one final nervous side-eye before rising and dusting off his pants. “Well, I’m off. So many Embrace Outcasts to talk to, so little time.” His eyes strayed to Aloy’s satchel again. “I've got a nice tripcaster I could sell you.”

Aloy crossed her arms. “How much?"

Karst named his price and Aloy tried to keep her disappointment from showing on her face. It would take months upon months to harvest enough shards, unless she indiscriminately began killing every machine she encountered.

“I'll think about it,” she said.

Karst nodded. “When you're ready to buy, you know where to find me.”

“At the edge of the woods, far away from the prying eyes of other Nora?” Her voice was thick with caustic sarcasm.

For a moment, Karst looked genuinely distressed. “Don't be like that. I don't think it's fair either but I really can’t–”

“I know,” she cut him off sharply. “You don't have to explain. I get it.” And she did get it. She was smart enough to see how the world worked, had been since she was young, building up a thick hide to withstand the cruelty of involuntary isolation. But still, it stung that he would only meet with her in the woods, away from the eyes of Nora tribesmen, looking around furtively, nervous as a rabbit.

The look Karst gave her was half pity and half understanding and Aloy suddenly couldn't look him in the face. “I'll hold on to it for you,” he said. “Until you're ready to buy it.”

Aloy shrugged as though she didn't care one way or another, but she knew that Karst wasn't fooled. There was no one else she could trade with after all.

After Karst left, Aloy turned to Rost. “What do you think?”

“We’ll go and hear what the Matriarchs have to say. To be called into their presence is an honor.” His face was turned towards the east, scanning the horizon.

Aloy herself had thought as much, though she was less honored than curious. She too, followed his gaze to the east, wondering what lay past the relative safety of the Embrace.

Geese flew in formation overhead, slipping through the sky on near silent wings. Mountains rose into the air, their sharp snow capped peaks piercing into the sky like spears. In the distance, machines went about their business as usual. All seemed calm and quiet in the Embrace, the heart of the Nora Sacred Land. 

The gates of the valley were closed to them but Aloy knew Rost had ventured out there before. He never talked about it, and dropped oblique comments only in passing, leaving Aloy to fill in the blanks on her own; his past was as shrouded in mystery as distant mountaintops were shrouded in clouds.

Aloy examined Rost’s faraway gaze. His expression seemed troubled, lost in thought. The skin at the corners of his eyes were tight and his brow was creased with a worry line.

“Something on your mind, Rost?” Aloy’s sense of unease deepened as Rost turned and tried to muster a small smile.

“It’s nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “I think I feel a storm coming, that’s all.”

 

* * *

 

Two weeks felt like it would be an interminable wait.  In the interim, Rost had Aloy hunting more than usual, ostensibly because he could see the impatience simmering just under her skin.  Rost also worked well into the night to prepare for travel, crafting arrows and traps, tanning animal skins, and drying meat.

When the two weeks finally passed, they made their way to Mother’s Heart, accompanied by a motley crew of Outcasts they met on the road.  Rost, as per usual, said little to other Outcasts, and Grata didn’t speak at all, save to mutter her devotions as she clutched her prayer beads.  Aloy, on the other hand, moved by a feeling of kinship, tried to get to know her fellow travellers.

There was Jom, who had been an Outcast since before Aloy was born, and Cren, who was recently cast out and was thin, bedraggled, and bewildered.  Kurnst was another Outcast who lived out past the Embrace. He had been cast out for beating another Brave who had stolen his kill (a perfectly reasonable response, Aloy had thought).  He understood it as his own fault, and that being cast out was right and just, but Aloy couldn’t quite agree. Jom wasn’t much as much of a hunter as he was a gatherer, but Kurnst was. Together, Kurnst and Aloy began teaching Cren how to take down the more hostile machines they encountered on the road. 

Kurnst sighed and clapped a hand to his chin, tugging his beard, as he watched Cren’s shot go wide of a training dummy, yet again.  “I wonder how he would have survived out here.”

“He might not have,” Aloy said, voice hard as she fletched ridgewood into arrow shafts.  She held one up, running her thumb across the shaft to feel for any stray splinters. “Not everyone who is cast out makes it in the wilds.”  Sometimes, when she and Rost came across bodies of Outcasts in the wilds, with evidence of injuries and malnutrition, she thought that being cast out was a slow death sentence for those who had lived their lives protected by the tribe.  More cruel than humane.

Kurnst considered her.  “I’ve seen you hunt, beasts of flesh and metal.  You seem more than capable of taking care of yourself.” 

“I had a good teacher,” she said.  It all prepared her for the ultimate test, the chance to run in the Proving next year and win the answers she so craved. 

Kurnst followed her gaze to where Rost was, helping Jom prepare a boar for dinner.  “He’s a good man.”

Aloy directed her curious gaze back to Kurnst.  “You knew Rost?”

He adjusted his fur skin cloak and shook his head.  “He’s not from my village but I knew him during my time as a Brave.  Not well, but enough to know he was a decent and honorable man.”

“Did you know why he was cast out?”  No sense beating around the bush. Of the few people that were willing to talk to her, no one seemed to know.  It was like she was surrounded by a conspiracy of silence on all sides. All questions, no answers.

“No one but the Matriarchs know why he was cast out.”  Kurnst seemed to accept this with no sense of curiosity whatsoever. 

 _Great, more mysteries._  Aloy suppressed a sigh as she sheathed her carving knife at her waist and threw her completed arrow into Rost’s quiver.  “Probably for something stupid,” she muttered, ignoring the look of shock on Kurnst’s face. She rose, dusted off her pants, and went to join Rost.

Jom quickly put her to work chopping herbs and vegetables.  He had gathered wild barley in the fields, carrots in the forest, as well as potatoes and some leeks by a stream.  He taught Aloy how to identify savory herbs, and which ones were suited more for boar than rabbit. Aloy sat by the cast iron pot, inhaling all the savory aromas, stomach twisting into knots and wrapping around her spine with hunger long before the stew was done. 

“This must be what living in a village feels like,” she said to Rost as she eagerly drank down the thick hearty stew. 

They were surrounded by Outcasts chatting amiably and had even welcomed a couple newcomers into their group.  Here and there, groups of people helped each other mend threadbare clothes and shoes.

Rost chewed thoughtfully and looked around them.  “In the eyes of All-Mother, every Nora has a duty and a place within the tribe and each individual contributes their strength, using the gifts All-Mother granted them.  When you are of the tribe, the tribe is your strength. The village is much bigger, but everyone works together, supporting each other.”

“Nice life, for those who aren’t Outcasts.”

“In a year’s time, you will run the Proving and get a chance to experience that too.”

Aloy’s fingers clenched around the handle of her wooden spoon.  “I don’t need a tribe who has never wanted me. I need answers,” she snapped.  The frustration and anger she felt always seemed to boil closer to the surface every year. 

“It’s true...you may not need the tribe,” Rost replied, giving her a keen look, laced with understanding.  “ I did my duty to you, made sure you could survive alone in the wilds, if need be. Soon, I will have taught you everything I know and I suppose you will no longer have need of me either.” 

“How could you say that?” Aloy said, stricken.  She would always need Rost in her life. Didn’t he understand that?

“I say that because I can see you setting yourself on a lonely path.  I taught you how to be strong, and Aloy.... you’ve excelled beyond my highest expectations. You’re now strong enough to stand on your own.  But how will you use that strength? What does All-Mother call you to do and for what purpose do you exist?”

For once Aloy had no glib answer so she merely sat, absorbing Rost’s words in thoughtful silence. 

“These are things that I cannot teach you,” Rost said gently.  “They are answers you will have to seek on your own. It’s my hope that you will understand after the Proving, what it means to be part of something bigger than yourself.”

Aloy ruminated on these questions long after the fire died down to embers and everyone else was asleep.  

 

* * *

 

The next day, they began the the long winding ascent to Mother’s Heart.  By design, Mother’s Heart sat on an escarpment, unreachable except by a thin ribbon of a road, that in some places were only wide enough to pull a cart.  In other spots, the shoulders of of the path dropped down a dizzyingly steep and rocky incline. Towards the rear, Mother’s Heart was encircled by mountains and the only way in or out of the village was through the main gate.  

The main gate was made of logs, each as wide as her waist, stacked horizontally together, lashed together with ropes and hinged with machine parts. It towered over them all, four times taller than the tallest Outcast among them as they stood in it’s long shadow and waited for the Braves on the wall to open the immense gates.

The longer they waited, the more jittery Aloy felt.  Suddenly, she couldn't shake the image of being welcomed by a hail of rocks. She absolutely hated not knowing what to expect.  Her stomach was tied into knots like a rope.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the heavy gates opened with a groan.  Only one of the Matriarchs greeted them at the entrance.

Teersa, she knew from Rost’s description.  She was the only Matriarch to bless her on the day Rost called her name to All-Mother.  The other two she knew were named Jezza and Lansra, though they were nowhere to be seen.

“I’m sure for some of you, it has been a long journey so let’s dispense with the formalities today,” Teersa said as the group of Outcasts made to kneel.  “I know you are all wondering what you have been called for, and if you’ll follow, all will be explained.”

Without further ado, she spun on her heel and marched back into the village. 

Walking through the village was surreal.  There were more people than Aloy had ever seen in one place in all her life.  Dozens of faces, in an innumerable permutation of complexions wearing their matrilineal markings.  Some of the Nora were obviously hunters, bringing in game and machine parts. Others were weavers, stitchers, tinkerers, working on garments, armor, and weapons with their tools laid out on tables before them. 

Still others were cooks, preparing the village meal in the cookfires at the center of the village.  She even saw some mothers and matrons leading groups of children with harvesting baskets. All of them went silent as their group of Outcasts past them by, flanked by an escort of Nora braves. When their group passed the children by, some of the mothers and matrons pushed the children behind their skirts as though to protect them from their tainted presence. Aloy tried not to roll her eyes and clenched her jaw tight. 

Aloy slipped away from Rost’s side and pushed her way through the group to reach the front where Teersa was leading them. For an old woman, she walked surprisingly fast, wooden beads about her neck, clicking softly to the pace of her steps.  Her movements did not betray her age in the least.

Aloy licked her dry lips and brushed her palms against her breeches. “High Matriarch, Teersa?”

To her surprise, Teersa turned to her with a smile. “Oh, if it isn’t Aloy.  My you’ve grown!”

Aloy dipped her head down, hair shielding her face for a moment. Something warm travelled from her chest to her cheeks. 

“You remember me.”

“Of course child, you’re hard to forget.”  Her sharp eyes studied Aloy intently, lingering on her rough hands, her well-worn bow and spear.  “I see that Rost raised you well. You will run the Proving next year.” The last was more a statement than question.

“Yes,” Aloy affirmed.  “About that…I wanted to ask- did you know my mother?”

“You could say that,” Teersa said cryptically. 

Aloy could feel her heart pounding in her chest in excitement.  The answers she sought were so close, right next to her. “Who is she?  Is she alive? Why…why was I abandoned?” The questions tripped out her mouth, clumsily, one after another.

Teersa looked resigned.  “I cannot answer that, at present.”

Aloy digested that information for a moment, trying to quell the rising swell of frustration.  “Then I’ll just have to win the Proving.” A sense of determination rose in her, overshadowing even the frustration. 

Teersa gave her a look that was full of approval.  “That is my hope for you, as well. I will pray for your success.”

Once again, that warm, almost embarrassing feeling rose up from her chest to her cheeks at Teersa’s endorsement. 

She dropped back to Rost’s side who merely gave her a look full of curiosity but didn’t interrogate her, sensing that she needed some space.  It was little things like this that made her really appreciate Rost.

They soon made their way to a lodge at the base of the mountain.  It was the tallest building that Aloy had ever seen, rising up three stories.  The inside was lit by torchlight and tallow candles set in sconces and dishes. There was a fire at the hearth on the far end of the room.  A fragrant scent hung in the smoky air despite the breeze flowing in from the vented holes at the sides of the lodge and up through the opening in the roof.  Herbs hung in heavy bundles from hooks on the sides of the walls, and the floors were covered by woven rush mats dyed blue and red in traditional Nora patterns. 

The other two High Matriarchs, Jezza and Lansra, met them here.  They took their places on either side of Teersa in front of the hearth on a raised dais at the far end of the lodge.  Jezza wore an expression as serene as a still pond but Lansra looked as though she had stepped into boarshit, lips curled into a thin sneer as her scornful gaze passed across them.  Teersa, on the other hand was practically vibrating with excited impatience.

“Outcasts, thank you for gathering here at our request,” Teersa began and all around Aloy, heads bowed in respect. “It has not been an easy decision to call upon you all but this is a desperate time for the Nora.”  Teersa exchanged a long look with Jezza while Lansra scoffed.

Before Aloy could puzzle out that strange tension among the three High Matriarchs, Teersa continued, “You may have already heard, but our tribe is at war and we have sustained some truly devastating losses.  Mother’s Vigil, what was left of it, was razed to the ground just last month. Our braves and resources were spread too thin; we had to pull back our defenses.”

Aloy was stunned.  Her tribe was at war, and she didn’t even know.  Several people gasped in shock. Beside Aloy, she heard Rost’s sharp inhale, could see the tenseness in his shoulders.  Clearly, he knew of the village, Mother’s Vigil. Why didn’t he tell her?

Not one to mince words, Teersa plowed on.  “Twenty-three braves lost their lives to Carja Red Raiders in that battle while trying to repel the invaders from the head of Valleymeet and Mother’s Crown.  The reports are incomplete, but there are at least that many Nora unaccounted for— we believe captured by Carja outlanders to be sacrificed to their heathen Sun God in their capital.”

Jezza stepped forward.  “You may be wondering what this all has to do with you as you are all cast out, no longer of the tribe.”  Her voice was calm and melodic, but Aloy sensed an undercurrent of unease in the way the High Matriarch held herself, hands clasped tightly in front of her as if already in prayer.  “But after much deliberation, we have decided to call upon all able-bodied Nora to protect our Sacred Land with bow and spear. We do not ask you this lightly, but now is the time of our tribe’s greatest need.” 

Aloy clenched her fist.  First they cast them out and then they have the nerve to ask them to fight for the tribe that turned their backs on them?  She could feel the spark of indignation, burning like a hot ember in her chest. The only thing that kept her from leaving was Rost’s steady presence at her side. 

Lansra stepped forward, face pinched and scowling, a stark contrast to the bright jingling of the metal beads in her headdress.  In her right hand she held a spear, more walking stick than weapon. Like Lansra, it was past its prime, though still sharp-edged.  “It is as my sisters have said. I have nothing further to add, but if you choose to defend the Sacred Land with your very lives, then in honor of that devotion, we will perform the Purification Ritual to cleanse you of your sins.”  For a moment, her eyes seemed to find Aloy in the crowd of Outcasts and the flash of potent hatred she saw there was almost enough to make her take an involuntary step back.

“It should be an easy choice,” Lansra added, “After all, most of you have lived within the Embrace without fear of Carja Red Raiders, protected by braves who have spilled their blood at our borders to preserve the very peace in which you live.  If you wish to be part of the tribe once more then you must serve it with an act of penitence, and only then, after your service, will your standing in the tribe be restored.”

Aloy felt an instantaneous dislike for Lansra, her haughty attitude grated at her, as though she expected gratitude for asking those they have cast out to fight and die for the tribe that had ostracized them.  There was no guarantee that they would be accepted back into the tribe either. Aloy’s agile mind quickly picked up on Lansra’s meaning- that their standing in the tribe and status as an Outcast depended upon whether their service for the tribe (if they survived the war) was deemed ‘penitent’ enough.  Whatever that meant.

No one else seemed to share her sense of indignation.  Jom, who sat on the other side of Rost, wept openly, cheeks glossy and wet with tears.  Most of the faces around her were lit with hope, that their isolation and rejection from the tribe would soon be at an end, all except Rost who cast her an unreadable sidelong look. 

Teersa stepped forward again with a wooden bowl in her hands.  “Any Outcast who wishes to accept this offer may take part in the Purification Ritual.”  Then she crumbled white chalk into the bowl and whisked it into a paint. The ritual was simple- Outcasts merely painted a horizontal white line across their foreheads to symbolize the cleansing of their sins.  Then the bowl was passed to the Outcast sitting beside them.

When it got to Aloy, she looked down into the bowl of thick white paint.  All she could see was her own reflection, face bare of the marks that signified matrilineal affiliation.  This was a chance to prove herself, and to the tribe that cast her out. More importantly, to Aloy, it was a chance to gain experience for her Proving next year so that she could finally discover the mysteries behind her birth, answers she had been looking for almost her whole life.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.  Then, she dipped her index finger into the paint, swiped it across her forehead, and closed her eyes.  She didn’t feel any different, no more or less cleansed than before. There was no sense of catharsis, or belonging, just an exasperation at this ritual, which to Aloy seemed so meaningless, full of pomp and circumstance.  She then handed the bowl to Rost.

Like Aloy, Rost looked into the bowl for a long moment.  His brow was furrowed, gaze unfocused and far away as he turned the bowl pensively in his hands, paint sloshing against the sides of the bowl.  He looked up at the three High Matriarchs. To Aloy, it seemed that some sort of understanding seemed to pass between Matriarch Teersa and Rost.  Rost nodded to himself and his face smoothed into an expression of peace. He blew out a deep breath and then pressed the bowl into Jom’s eager hands.

Aloy gripped his elbow.  “Rost…what are you doing?” she hissed.  Her mind was reeling in surprise; there had been no question that he would take the offer.  The tribe was everything to Rost. He had tried to hammer that same devotion in her...

He shook his head.  “Later,” he muttered under his breath.  The Matriarchs had begun their prayer and Aloy was forced to sit in stunned silence, as the paint dried in a cool stripe across her forehead. 

As soon as they were done, Aloy rounded on Rost.  “You should have told me that you weren’t going to take the offer.”  Some of the betrayal she felt must have showed on her face.

“I didn’t want to keep you from taking this opportunity,” Rost said. 

“What opportunity?” Aloy asked, voice rising despite her best efforts at control.  “The one where we’re asked to fight and die for the tribe? The one where acceptance isn’t really a guarantee?” 

Rost shook his head.  “No. The opportunity to belong in the tribe and to be part of something greater.”

Aloy made a disdainful noise.  Her throat felt tight as she tried to swallow the hurt feeling.  She ignored the looks of censure thrown her way. “If it’s such a great opportunity, then why didn’t you take it?”  It was hard not to feel like Rost was abandoning her.

Rost looked away, but not before she saw a flash of pain cross his face.  “I’ve already lived one life and have been blessed by All-Mother in more ways than I would have ever expected.  This second chance...it’s not for me to take.”

“Rost, don’t make me do this alone,” Aloy said, as she ran her hand through her hair.  She looked up at him, eyes begging. The bowl of white paint hadn’t made it back to the High Matriarchs.  “You can still change your mind!”

“My decision is made,” he said firmly.  “You won’t be alone, Aloy. You will have the whole tribe behind you.  Your...attachment to me is not healthy. It is my wish that you embrace the tribe, that you add your strength to the Nora. They will need you.  This is for the best, and once you are accepted, you’ll see.”

She shook her head slowly.  “You’re wrong. There’s something else going on here, and I just...wish you would trust me enough to tell me what it is.” 

She waited, but Rost said nothing, lips pressed in a tight line.  Aloy spun around and pushed her way through the gathered Outcasts until she reached the threshold of the lodge, ducking under the lintel to get outside for fresh air.  The walls seemed to press in on her. She had never been surrounded by so many people, and yet she had never felt so alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite myself, I really enjoy the Aloy and Nil pairing so I decided to try to write a multi-chapter, AU prequel. This was stuck in my head and I couldn't dislodge, so I thought, I might as well put it to writing! I have a rough outline of how I'd like this story to go and it will be slow to start, but I hope the first chapter was enjoyable so far. The next chapter will introduce some of the Carja Red Raiders.  
> As always, thanks for reading!


	2. Westward

Kafir lay his cards on the polished surface of the wooden table and shouted, “Quints! I win again.”

Gavidan, his playing partner and brother in arms huffed. “I swear you’re cheating,” he mumbled as he threw a few shards across the table and took a swig of wine from his shallow drinking dish. He was a saturnine fellow, as gloomy as Kafir was cheerful. The expression on his face was one of perpetual anxiety.

Kafir and Gavidan came up from the same unit in Meridian. Carja military, born and bred, they had begun training at a young age under the edicts of Radiant Hivas, which were continued under Radiant Jiran which mandated a son for the glory of the Carja Empire from every family– khanes to commoners. Though they didn’t share the same blood, they were closer to each other than their own families, which they only got to see once a year on leave.

Kafir raked up the shards into a small pile, adjusted his eyepatch, and smiled as he shuffled the cards. “One more round, Gav?”

Gavidan propped his chin in his hand. “Best not. If I keep playing, I’ll probably lose all my shards. And knowing my luck, I’ll probably get called to the next raid where I’ll be torn limb from limb by savage Nora and then they won’t even be able to send back anything valuable to my family with my remains because I’ll have lost it all to you.”

Kafir tuned out as he tapped the deck of cards on the table, long used to Gavidan’s moribund ramblings. A flash of yellow caught his eye from across the training ground. He squinted to get a better look.

“Hey,” he said pointing to a man who was slouched lazily on a bench in the shade of the Daytower walls, book in hand, “he’s got a volume of _Captains and Capers_!” The leaves were bound in yellow silk, unmistakeable. It looked brand-new, unlike the faded dog-eared copies Kafir kept on his bedside table.

Gavidan raised his head from his chin for a better look. The worry lines on his brow deepened. “Eh...I’d leave him be. He just shipped in... from Sunfall.”

Kafir hummed and put his hands behind his head as he tipped his chair back. “So what? Half the kestrels strutting around the Daytower came from Sunfall.”

“Yeah, well that guy is a little different from your usual bruisers. For starters, he’s not a kestrel. He didn’t come with a unit, and his last deployment was at Cinnabar Sands.”

Kafir’s head whipped between the man with the book and Gavidan. “Are you serious? He’s the last man standing at the skirmish of Cinnabar Sands? The Demon of the Daunt?”

“Skirmish,” Gavidan muttered darkly, “more like rebellion, defection...bloodbath, take your pick. Yeah, it’s him. Rumor has it, he requested the transfer. Don’t know anyone in their right mind who’d want to be stationed at this Sun-forsaken backwater…”

Kafir’s chair came down on the front legs with a resolute thump. He slapped his thigh. “Man, I really want that book.”

Gavidan grabbed Kafir’s arm. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? If even half the stories about him are true…don’t forget, they’re here to keep an eye on us. To make sure there’s no hint of rebellion. It’s our heads on the line if we don’t deliver more to tributes to the Sun Ring.”

Kafir shook free of Gavidan’s grasp. “Well then, we should be making friends, right?” After all, it wasn’t every day that you got to meet a warrior well on his way to becoming a legend.

Kafir made his way down to the training courtyard across the hard packed dirt, dodging out of the way of a wrestling match until he stood right in front of the man sitting by himself in the shadowy corner of the courtyard. Everyone gave him a wide berth. He didn’t appear to have any friends and for a moment Kafir felt sorry for him.

“Er...hi, I noticed you were reading _Captains and Capers_. Is that the newest edition?”

The man looked up and blinked slowly, as though surprised he was being spoken to...Kafir saw the markings under his eyes, a highborn khane.

“Yes, it is,” he said but volunteered no other information. Kafir resisted the urge to fidget under that bare gaze; he felt somehow like he was being sized up.

“Man,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “you guys at Sunfall get the best stuff! I’m still two issues behind.” He bounced a bit on the balls of his feet and then thrust his hand out. “I’m Kafir.”

“May the sun light your days,” the man said as he grasped his hand, manners as automatic as breathing. “Zerif khane Nilesh.”

“Ah what a mouthful! I’m going to forget...do you mind if I call you Nil?” Kafir watched him carefully to see if he would take offense, but Nil only cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t really care,” he said agreeably. Quite different from the khanes and kestrels that came from Sunfall, Kafir already liked him. He also hadn’t boasted about Cinnabar Sands, not once.

“Tell me...Kafir,” said Nil after a moment, “what do soldiers do for fun here at the Daytower?”

Kafir rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, uh we play cards, my brother and I,” he said, pointing at an increasingly alarmed Gavidan across the courtyard. “You’re welcome to join us for Quints,” he said, ignoring Gavidan as he shook his head frantically and slashed his hands in front of him, mouthing ‘no’.

“Eh, I’ll think about it,” Nil said, tone indifferent. “What else?”

“Ah...there’s the courtesan’s quarters? The lovely Ramani is–”

“Entertaining, I’m sure,” drawled Nil, not even bothering to mask his disinterest. “Tell me more about about these Nora. I confess, I’m curious. Time and again, the spears of the Carja have been turned aside by the shields of Nora braves. I heard they consecrated their Sacred Land with the blood of Meridian’s finest. Is that true?”

Kafir nodded grimly. “The rumors don’t do them justice.”

That was the whole reason they began shipping in kestrels from Sunfall. The Sun-King himself found their performance...lacking. Daytower was the only fortress in all the Sundom that consistently fell short of the quota for live tributes. The presence of kestrels from Sunfall, and even Zerif khane Nilesh sent a clear message of Radiant Jiran’s displeasure, and it was a likely indication that heads might start to roll if they didn’t start sending more sacrifices to the Sun Ring.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. But, much like men boasting about their swords, rumors are likely to disappoint.”

Kafir straightened himself to his full height. “I know I may not look like it, but I’m an elite-class archer...well, was anyway. Before I lost my depth perception.” He flipped his eyepatch up. “A souvenir from my first raid. I barely escaped with my life intact. They strike fast, and disappear like smoke. We’ve only taken one village in all the years we’ve been here and haven’t gone much further since then. We pay for each mile in blood price.”

Nil leaned forward, an avid expression on his face. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

_Beautiful?_ Kafir flipped his eyepatch down hastily as Nil reached forward as though to touch his ruined eyelid. “Don’t underestimate Nora women like I did,” he advised Nil. “Or they’ll take an eye from you...if you’re lucky.”

“When is the next raid?”

“About a week, Sun willing,” Kafir said as he watched something light up in Nil’s eyes. It was dark gleam, something that he saw rarely in the eyes of his fellow Carja soldiers, and only in the heat of pitched battle. Anticipation. The madness of bloodlust, poorly concealed.

The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled and it felt as though someone had poured chillwater down his spine. In that moment, he believed it all, every rumor he ever heard about Zerif khane Nilesh, The Shadow of Cinnabar Sands who single-handedly put down a rebellion in the west, which included the brothers in his own unit, along with an entire village that sheltered Carja rebels.

Nil shut his book with a sharp snap and then stood up slowly, rolling his big shoulders. His long shadow fell over Kafir. “That’s the most exciting news I’ve heard all day,” he said, a sliver of white teeth flashing in a fierce thin smile. He pushed the book into Kafir’s chest. “My thanks,” he said and then wandered away towards the sparring arena.

Kafir cradled the book to his chest as he walked back to Gavidan in a daze.

“Well?! What did you say to him? What’s he like?” Gavidan asked, barely able to refrain from wringing his hands as Kafir plopped back into a chair.

“Cool,” said Kafir looking at the book in his hands with a sort of awed expression. “Really...really cool.”

Gavidan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You idiot,” he muttered.

 

* * *

 

Aloy still wasn’t talking to Rost when they reached the Northern Embrace Gate.  They were to meet with a small escort of braves and other Nora from surrounding villages who were also headed to Mother’s Crown to help fortify the western defenses.

When they finally reached the northern gate, Aloy hung back. Deep in her heart, she knew that this is not where she left him but where he would be leaving her.

She and Rost turned to each other. Aloy looked up at him. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“Do you?” Rost seemed faintly amused. “I didn’t know you could read minds now.” His eyes found her Focus, ever present just in front of her right ear. After all these years, he hadn’t once asked her anything about it. It was the only thing that was hers and hers alone and Aloy loved him for that, for letting her have something special to herself when she had nothing else, even if it went against everything he believed.

“You’re leaving, I know that. I’m glad you came with me to the gate but you’re going back to the Embrace.”

“Mother’s Crown and other such settlements are not open to Outcasts,” Rost said. There was a wistful note in his voice. “You’ll watch over Odd Grata?”

“Of course. Maybe she’ll even talk to me now.” Aloy pulled her shoulders back. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. You told me to consider how to use my strength and I’ve decided to use my strength for something that I believe in.

Rost nodded and put his hands on her shoulders. “Then I hope you find something worthy of you. I told you before that you may not need the tribe...but I never said that the tribe wouldn’t need you.”

Aloy clasped her hand over his. “I’ll fight the Carja, not to prove myself to the tribe, but because they’re hurting people.” Because it was the right thing to do and turning a blind eye to suffering was never in her nature.

“To defend the weak is a worthy cause.” The look he gave her was full of tenderness and pride. Rost gestured towards the gates. “You’re ready for the world out there. You’ve learned every lesson the wilds have to teach.”

“It was you who taught me, not the wilds,” Aloy said quietly.

Rost took her hand, turned it up and pressed a piece of carved bone into her palm. It was a pendant, strung through with a leather cord. “Here, take this to...remember.”

There was a sinking feeling in her gut. “Why are you talking like we’ll never see each other again?”

“When the war is over, you will be accepted into the tribe, but I will always be an Outcast,” Rost reminded her gently.

Aloy shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t shun you. You can’t ask me to turn my back on you, who raised me and taught me everything that I know.” She had no one else to call family, other than Rost, even though they weren’t related by blood, he was all she had in this world.

Rost heaved a heavy sigh and looked away. “I thought you might say that, which is why I must go where you will never find me. This is good-bye.”

Aloy’s hand clenched around the carved bone pendant and then she slipped it over her head. “It’s not,” she promised. “When this is over, I will come back home and I _will_ find you. Wherever you go, I will always find you.” Her voice shook with the fierceness of her determination.

Rost gave her one final look, both fond and sad, lingering on her face as though he wanted to commit every feature to the vaults of memory.

“No matter what, survive, so that you can come back and win the Proving,” he said quietly. “May All-Mother bless you.” Then he turned and walked back towards the Embrace.

“And you,” Aloy whispered, blinking back the hot pressure and sting behind her eyes as she watched his broad shoulders recede into the distance.

 

* * *

 

Even in the best of times, the trails and land beyond the Embrace were not without danger. The small group of braves that were their escort were wary and tense, welcoming any help they could get in clearing out hostile machines on the road. When they travelled, they kept the mountain ranges to their left on their northwest journey, like following the backbone of some great long-dead beast. At night, when all was quiet and it was just Aloy with her focus keeping watch on nearby machines, she would lean back on her hands, turn her face to the stars, and feel the wide world opening up to her.

When they reached Mother’s Crown, it soon became apparent why it was a stronghold of resistance against Carja invasion. The Nora had made good use of surrounding topography— the village’s westward side abutted against a giant fin of red rock, towering upwards hundreds of feet, a natural defense. Two great forks of a deep and fast flowing river wrapped around the northern and southern sides of the village. To the east, the heavily fortified settlement was protected by a towering series of red stones that rose up like crooked teeth, cutting through the gums of the earth. The southern side was the habitat of a herd of striders and their watcher guardians, which made any approach difficult without detection.

In addition to these natural fortifications, the village itself was surrounded by thick walls of felled trees, sharpened to wicked points with ramparts that ran in between the red stone walls. There were watchtowers built on top of the stone edifices, where an enemy approach could be spotted miles and miles away. From the distance, Aloy could only see one entrance, a massive steel-fortified vertical gate, that spanned an open section of red stone walls which could be lowered at a moment’s notice. All they had to do was go through the field of tall grass without drawing the attention of the strider herd.

Suddenly, a yell caught her attention. A couple of hunters from Mother’s Crown had been spotted by watchers. She could see spears and metal flashing in the distance. Periodic bursts of laser blasts exploded from the watchers’ eyes, and from their distance she could hear the tinny clash of metal on armor.

Aloy tensed, and slipped her hunting bow off her back. Rana, a brave that led the small party that accompanied the Outcasts from the Embrace put her hand on Aloy’s arm and shook her head.

Aloy followed her gaze and realized that the commotion had drawn the attention of some striders at the edge of the herd. A few of them raised their heads, machine eyes flashing from blue to yellow as they stomped their hooves in increasing agitation, blowing air out of their intake valves.

“If the rest of the herd notices, they’ll get trampled,” Aloy murmured ducking her head back into the tall grass.

“Those hunters knew they were taking a risk,” Rana said, face tight and unhappy. “We can’t help them from here, not with the striders between us and them.”

Aloy tapped her focus, and the familiar tessellated web of lights flickered to life around her.

Rana, who had by now learned that Aloy had an almost uncanny stealth around machines, watched her warily. “Whatever you’re planning to do, girl, don’t.”

“I can save them,” she said. The hunters, who had by now dropped their game and their bows had somehow clambered onto a precarious narrow outcropping of rock and were now ducking laser blasts from the watchers.

Rana took in the set stubborn expression on her Aloy’s face, then glanced behind them at the group she was guiding. Her head swivelled back to Aloy, lips pressed together into a thin line. “I can’t spare any of my braves and I won’t help you if you get in over your head,” she warned.

Aloy shot her a small grin. “You won’t have to.”

Rana jerked her head. “Go now, and I’ll lead our group around to the other end of the field and through the village gates. May All-Mother guide your arrows to their mark.”

Aloy stalked quickly through the tall grass, the hunt quickening the thrum and rush of blood in her veins. She stopped just long enough to arm a detonating blast trap in a patch of grass between the restless herd of striders and the watchers that were harrying the hunters on their rock ledge. Then she maneuvered herself into comfortable shooting distance of the watchers. They still hadn’t noticed her, too preoccupied trying to flush the hunters out of their hiding spot. There were three of them, eyes flashing red as they periodically shot energy blasts at their trapped quarry.

Aloy drew two arrows, nocked one and kept the other between her teeth. Quickly, she took aim and the arrow left her bow the same time her breath left her lungs. She downed two in quick succession before the third noticed she was there. It raised its head, screeching angrily as it charged, red aggression shining in its singular eye.

It leapt at her and Aloy braced herself, pivoting her weigh to her back leg and swung her spear up with all her might. It arced through the air, shining and lethal and she felt the impact of spear to metal jar her all the way up to her shoulder, felt the sharpened tip find purchase and tear through the watcher’s metal guts as she disengaged. The watcher took one jerky step, then another, and fell sparking and whirring to the ground as the light slowly sputtered out of its large glassy eye.

“Watch out behind you!” one of the hunters yelled. Aloy whirled and saw that the herd of striders, attracted by the noise, had begun to stampede in their direction. She drew her bow back and shot an arrow at the ground right where she left the detonation trap. The arrow pierced the balloon sac, releasing the trigger mechanism.

_BOOM!_ The force of the blast flung the leading strider into the air. It skidded and stopped just a few feet from Aloy, lifeless husk twitching in its last death throes. The rest of the herd reared as they startled, churning at the air with their metallic hooves. Then as one, the herd turned tail and ran, disappearing into the tree line.

One of the hunters hopped off the rocky ledge and as soon as he landed on the ground, lifted his arms upward in supplication. “All-Mother be praised. We’re saved!”

“Yeah...you’re welcome,” Aloy muttered under her breath as she placed her bow and spear on her back.

The other hunter walked up to her gingerly, her body covered in dirt, cuts, and bruises. She grasped Aloy’s hands. “Thank you,” she said emphatically. “We truly thought that we would not live to see another day.”

“Yes, thank you brave,” the other hunter said sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head. “We owe you our lives.”

“I’m not exactly a brave...yet,” Aloy said as she gently extricated herself from the other hunter’s grasp, “but I’m glad that I could—”

_Thump. Thump. Thump._ There was a distant sound of giant footsteps as some of the trees in the tree line swayed as though something were trying to push its way through the forest. Startled by the disturbance, a flock of birds took wing, calling their warning cries to the sky as they fled.

The three of them all instinctively took a step back.

“What was that?” Aloy asked as she moved into a crouch and tapped her focus.

For a moment, everything was silent, and then a giant metallic blur leapt out of the trees, raised its heavy head to the skies and shook the air with a roar of aggression. Through the focus, Aloy caught an impression of sleek lines, sharp claws, and lethal looking jaws filled with serrated metal teeth. Then it lowered its head, the four visual sensors zeroed in on them and flashed from yellow to red.

“Sawtooth,” one of the hunters said in a shaky whisper as he began to back up slowly. “Run!”

The three of them turned and ran for the village gates. What had seemed so close before seemed to stretch out before them. Aloy could hear the beast roaring behind them, could feel the impact of its footsteps reverberating against the earth as it gave chase. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm against the cage of her ribs. She didn’t dare look behind her as she pumped her legs faster.

Suddenly, the hunter to her left tripped on a patch of uneven ground. His momentum carried him forward and he rolled a good several feet before coming to a stop with a groan.

“Oren!” the other hunter yelled as she skidded to a halt. The relentless pounding gait of the sawtooth was getting ever closer. Aloy grit her teeth and spun around with her bow, firing an arrow into the face of the sawtooth. It was almost comically ineffective. The sawtooth barely flinched as it snarled, but now Aloy got the feeling its killing intent was focused on her. She glanced behind her and saw that Oren was being helped to his feet, looking slightly dazed but otherwise uninjured.

The slight lead that they had over the sawtooth had all but disappeared and it was almost upon them. In a split second, Aloy weighed her choices, run or fight.  Her fingers clenched around her bow so tight that it almost hurt. Determination coursed through her veins, flinty and unyielding.

“I’m buying you time,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Then she focused her full attention on the giant beast that was bearing down on her. All her muscles were tensed as she waited in near stillness at it barreled towards her. At the last moment, she rolled away as it leapt, the giant machine claws missing her by mere inches, so close that they nearly snagged the ends of her braids.

The sawtooth let out a low growl that vibrated through the air as it swiveled around to face her, now in between her and the bridge that crossed the river. Slowly she drew a fire arrow and kept her distance as they circled each other. Aloy caught only a brief glimpse of the blaze canister, lit in yellow by her focus, located on the heavily armored undercarriage of the beast.

A bead of sweat trickled down her back and her arms were tensed and sore from keeping the bowstring drawn to full tension as she waited for it to pounce. It let out a loud roar as it lunged, claws swiping for her and Aloy was forced to roll once again. As the sawtooth’s momentum carried it forward, Aloy once again drew back her bow, the burning arrow now singing her fingertips. Time seemed to slow as she concentrated on the the blaze canister, everything else seemed to fade out as she took aim. The feather fletching brushed her cheek as she let the arrow fly. It sang through the air, bright as a meteor as it hit home, cracking the blaze canister and setting it alight.

Aloy turned and ran as fast as she could. She could smell the blaze burning away, the petrol scent filling her nose.

_BOOM!_ The force of the explosion caught her and flung her off her feet. Luckily, she was far enough away that she didn’t catch fire. Sparing a glance back, Aloy grinned. Gouts of flame were spouting from between the armored plates of the sawtooth’s body. It snarled and bucked, whirling in circles in an attempt to put the fires out.

Aloy scrambled to her feet and took off across the bridge. As she pushed herself to full speed, she could hear the rattle of warped metal plates scratching against each other as the sawtooth pounced after her. With a sinking feeling, she saw that the village gates were closed. Aloy sucked in a breath and then, just as she was about to change directions, she saw it.  It was an opening, the gate just barely pulled up and Rana’s face as she peeked underneath the heavy wooden logs urging her forward.

Aloy heard the ragged metallic snarl behind her and dove for it, rolling underneath the gate. Rana hauled her the rest of the way in and the gate slammed shut. Just on the other side, there came a thunderous crash as the logs shook with the force of the sawtooth’s impact.

“Fire!” Rana called up to the ramparts, and the braves stationed there released a flaming volley of arrows.

There was another resounding crash against the gate, shaking the very dust off the wood and stone.

“Again!” shouted Rana. The archers reloaded and once more, arrows whistled through the air. On the other side, they heard an unearthly machine roar of thwarted rage and everyone held their breath as the pounding footsteps retreated.

Aloy panted, holding her side as she grinned at Rana. “I thought you weren’t going to help.”

Rana shook her head as she clasped Aloy’s arm. “That was either sheer skill or dumb luck.”

“Let’s go with a little of both,” Aloy said with a grimace. Now that the adrenaline had faded, she could feel every bruise and scrape. “I’m definitely going to hurt in the morning.”

“Either way, that was the most impressive display we’ve ever seen,” called a young hunter from the ramparts.

To her own annoyance, Aloy felt a flush creep up from her chest to her cheeks. All the eyes on her made her feel ill at ease.

“What’s all the ruckus?” a voice called. The voice matched a face just as sharp and unpleasant. A brave, flanked by two other warriors walked up to meet them.

Rana’s back stiffened as she turned. “Resh.” There was a moment where Rana and the newcomer stared at each other, a bit of frosty silence descending over them both.

Resh’s gaze swept over Aloy and the rest of the Outcasts with barely concealed contempt. “Why are these people still here? They should already have been shown to their accommodations.”

“I don’t take orders from you. Where’s Venis? The commander of Mother’s Crown is supposed to meet new warriors.”

Resh’s cold eyes narrowed. “Dead.”

“What? That can’t be…” Rana rocked back on her heels, blood draining from her face.

Resh leaned forward. “I have command of Mother’s Crown. Which means I give the orders now. You’d do well to remember that,” he said in a low voice. “Take these former Outcasts to the west lodge. I don’t want them loitering about. Tomorrow, they will begin training.”

“The rest of you,” he said, sweeping an arm out, “back to your posts.”

They were led to a lodge near the outskirts of Mother’s Crown. Rana was equal parts upset and embarrassed.

“He did this on purpose,” she muttered.

There was a hole in the roof of the lodge where it seemed to have caught on fire at some recent point in time. Aloy could still smell the residual scent of burnt thatching.

As the rest of the Outcasts filled in, she could hear exclamations of delight.

Jom spun around with his arms wide. “I have forgotten what the inside of a Nora lodge looks like!”

“We were Outcasts, so some of us have had worse,” Aloy said to Rana. “I think we’ll be alright.”

Rana gave her a subdued nod, mind clearly preoccupied with the bad news she had just received. “Rest well, Aloy. You’ve earned it.”

Later when everyone else had gone to sleep, Aloy looked up at the stars through the hole in the roof and was hit with a pang of homesickness. She missed Rost fiercely. When she finally found sleep, her dreams were plagued with gates that were closed to her and snarling red-eyed machines with sharp teeth and claws.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update. I'm a slow writer and the action scene completely stymied me. I hope that it came out ok. Strangely, the first part with Nil was the portion that came the easiest. I also really enjoyed writing my two odd couple OCs Kafir and Gavidan.
> 
> Thank you so much to those of you who have commented and left kudos! It's nice to know that people liked what I wrote. If there is any constructive crit, give it to me! It's nice to hear from other perspectives on what people think of my writing and what all I can improve. Cheers!


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